


This Is The First Night

by A_Ghost_Called_Boo



Series: Caution To The Wind (the small town punk au) [1]
Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album), The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Comic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Gen, Gender Dysphoria, Nonbinary Fun Ghoul (Danger Days), Nonbinary Party Poison (Danger Days), One Shot, Trans Jet Star (Danger Days), Underage Smoking, death mention, for once kobra and poison are nice to each other can we please take a moment to appreciate this, no second drafts we die like impatient dumbasses, the small town punk au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:27:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26124226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Ghost_Called_Boo/pseuds/A_Ghost_Called_Boo
Summary: Jet and Ghoul decide to go outside to get a breath of air and make some new friends along the way.*This takes place in the universe of my "small town punk au", but it's otherwise unrelated to the actual main plotline of the au itself- more of a "What if they met under different circumstances?" that turned into a self-indulgent fic
Relationships: Fun Ghoul & Jet Star & Kobra Kid & Party Poison (Danger Days), Fun Ghoul & Jet Star (Danger Days), Kobra Kid & Party Poison (Danger Days)
Series: Caution To The Wind (the small town punk au) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1896898
Comments: 6
Kudos: 17





	This Is The First Night

**Author's Note:**

> The killjoys all go by their usual names because i'm too lazy to give them actual names in this one. The title comes from [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NJAV_ddTqw0) by Anti-flag with the same name

The moment he steps through the worn-down doors of the gym, Ghoul can feel the burning glares being thrown in his direction. He keeps his head down the entire time as he makes his way where he and Jet agreed to meet, eyes trained on his combat boots and the stupid frilly material of the dress his mother made him wear- it didn’t look  _ bad _ , per se, it just felt wrong on him. Running a hand through his freshly cut hair, he bites back the urge to just turn around and give those assholes undoubtedly talking shit about “that gay punk kid” while standing next to the makeshift punch table, instead willing himself to think about anything else.

First thing to pop in his mind was his mother’s face when she saw her teen’s new hairdo- it wasn’t anything special, just the sides of his head shaved into a fauxhawk because alas, not even all the hair gel in the world, or even glue, could keep his hair from curling for more than five minutes. She put on quite a show, though, speedrunning through the stages of grief like she actually gave a shit before ultimately landing on anger and telling Ghoul off to his room. He had to take his favourite vest with him everywhere and hide the rest of his more important things under the bed for a week, but it was so  _ so  _ worth it. After all, it’s Jet’s last winter formal and Ghoul’s hopefully  _ only  _ winter formal, so he thought he should at least try not to look like he rolled out of the gutter for once, right?

“You too, huh?” is what Jet says instead of a greeting, giving his friend a sympathetic half-smile. He’s hugging his usual black leather jacket tightly around himself, almost like he’s cold, but his pale-colored dress that seems to match Ghoul’s own one gives away the meaning of it all.

“Yeah.” the younger sighs, sitting down on the old bleachers next to Jet and crossing his legs with a frown when he realises the whole school would probably see his underwear if he sat like usual- dresses are just stupid like that sometimes- “Thought i wouldn’t piss mom off even more, especially after the fit she threw when she saw my hair. Didn’t want to miss your big day, y’know?”

Jet snorts, “Yes, because sitting on the bleachers in the gym while obnoxious music plays in the background is a peak highschool experience.”

“Hey, if you didn’t want to go you just should’ve said so.” Ghoul shrugs, his eyes scanning across the gym. Paper decorations are strung along the walls with balloons haphazardly taped over where the loose strands of colorful tissue paper meet. Students are scattered all across the room, split off in different smaller groups and chattering over the sound of Top 30 music playing from the makeshift DJ table that’s really just a teachers desk with a big table cloth thrown over it and the CD player from the computer lab perched on top along with some shitty speakers. 

“Yeah, i know.” Jet says eventually tilting his head back to look at the ceiling, “Just thought that maybe this time it’d be different since it’s the last time, y’know?”

“Eh. Not really.” the other jokes, earning a light punch in the arm, “I mean, it’s the same shitty gym with the same shitty people- not much change there. Now, if i had a Black Flag CD with me?  _ That  _ would’ve been memorable.” he smirks mischievously.

“Miss Thompson would be so pissed.” the older shakes his head snickering, “You’d definitely get detention ‘til the end of the year.”

  
  


“Exactly! Think how awesome that’d be!” Ghoul exclaims loudly, but he doesn’t quite realise that it’s too loud until he hears obnoxious laughter coming from over at the punch table. Against his better judgement, he looks over his shoulder with the intention to throw the clique of irritating juniors a sharp glare, but when his eyes meet theirs they drop to the hardwood floor of the gym, only making the laughter grow louder. It pisses him off, but what pisses him even more is that there are tears prickling at the corners of his eyes.

“Hey.” Jet places a hand on his shoulder, making him flinch out of his thoughts, “D’you want to go outside?”

Ghoul wants to say no, tell him that everything is fine and he’s just overreacting, but then the teens call his name- the  _ wrong  _ one, of course, the one that feels like sandpaper against his skin- and he screws his eyes shut, nodding his head vigorously. The two shuffle out without much of a second thought, telling the TA posted by the door like a member of the royal guard that they need to go to the bathroom and slipping into the empty hallway. It’s colder than in the gym and the fluorescent lights almost seem brighter without all the commotion on the other side of the door, but for the first time that night the younger feels like he can breathe properly again.

First thing they do is change and the younger teen was never happier to wear his week-old gym equipment and the pastel pink hoodie he told his mom he’d “lost” in seventh grade than it that moment. It’s as if a weight was lifted off his shoulders once with the dress and while he has to admit it  _ was  _ pretty, dresses were not made to be worn at school events- at least not by him. Jet makes his presence known by plopping his dress on top of Ghoul’s head and letting the material drape over his eyes with a chuckle, making the other let out a groan before whining about how it was unnecessary and childish and he’d raised Jet better than this.

The clothes get discarded in their respective lockers to be be picked at the end of the night and the two start walking down the hall again, Ghoul making a game out of trying not to step over where the floor tiles meet to keep himself entertained while Jet nods his head along to a tune inside his head. The doors to the cafeteria are locked, so the two teens head down a narrow hallway to the right and stop in front of scratched-up and stained door that seems to have had better days.

Jet explains to him that the door belongs to what was- well, technically, still  _ is _ \- the school’s art room as he pushes against it and messes with the doorknob until it gives in with a quiet click and the older stumbles forward a few steps before catching himself from falling over. Ghoul stifles a snicker, before entering the room with a solemn nod in response to the former’s dramatic “after you” gesture. 

The room has only one lonely window near where the teacher’s desk is at the front of the room, close to the ceiling, but it’s arguably big enough for the teens to fit through it. Wordlessly, they walk up to the desk and push it against the wall with the window, using a chair as a step to get on top of the table easily. Ghoul needs a little help from Jet to reach up to the window, but soon he’s outside, hitting the ground with a loud ‘ _ thud _ ’ as his landing lifts a small cloud of dust around him. For a moment, he’s so distracted by the dust, he almost doesn’t hear the table screeching against the floor inside when Jet makes a jump for the window, almost falling on top of the younger.

Back on their feet and walking away from where they had made their exit, it becomes clear to the two that they aren’t the only ones who found the formal to be, well,  _ underwhelming-  _ to put it nicely. Leaning against the school’s worn down brick wall, there are two teenagers seemingly unaware of the other’s presence. They appear to be around the same age, if only judging by height, one wearing a thin worn-out sweater with black and white stripes going across it and a pair of beat up sneakers, while the other wore a long-ish black cardigan and matching black platform boots. The one with the striped sweater has shaggy blonde hair and a fringe lazily tucked behind their left ear, whereas their companion has poofy teased black hair and two long red strands framing their face.

Ghoul doesn’t do as much as acknowledge them, as he plops down a few feet away, hugging his knees to his chest, and tries to focus on how his ass is slowly starting to freeze instead of the daunting thoughts swimming inside his head. The strangers don’t even seem fazed by it, only acknowledging Jet to return the nod he’d given them as a silent greeting, and then no one says anything, the four seemingly much more caught up in staring off into the scenic view of a grimy wall with what looked like cracking gray paint from the 40s.

“I’ll take that the formal’s going great.” the one with red hair deadpans, making Ghoul frown in confusion before his last brain cells catch up with him and he realises they’re being sarcastic.

“Yeah, if you’re into listening to the top 40s from when you were a toddler.” Jet rolls his eyes with a huff, “Oh, and Mariah Carey.”

“Say what you will, but the 80s had some good thing going for them.” the blonde shrugs.

“Yeah! Like Black Flag, Circle Jerks, Bad Brains-” Ghoul rattles the names off the top of his head, getting in an internal debate with himself on how late in the 80s still counts as 80s, when his train of thought is interrupted by a snort. “What?” he glares at the teen with teased black hair, his previous self-consciousness seemingly having been left back in the sweaty gym alongside the side-eyes and dirty words whispered under the breaths of his peers.

“Nothing,” the other responds, not so subtly holding back a grin, “you just look like the kind of person who’d be into that stuff.”

“Whatever you say, Siouxsie Sioux.” Ghoul dismisses them with a wave of his hand, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards as he catches a glimpse of the surprised expression of the former teen, “The adults were having a serious conversation.”

“And i made a serious observation!” they protest, “Also, i’m taking that as a compliment.” they inform matter-of-factly before sticking their tongue out.

“Put that tongue back in your mouth before you bite it off.” the blonde says before slapping their friend upside the head which made Ghoul snicker, earning his own slap- though it was really more of a hard pat on the head.

“Ow!” the younger whines, rubbing his hand over the spot where Jet hit him and asks in the most hurt and confused voice he can muster, “What did i do??”

“Nothing- that was for me.” Jet smirks and Ghoul gasps dramatically, placing a hand on his chest like a fainting maiden.

“Oh God, there’s two of them now.” the teen with the striped sweater grimaces, making the others laugh before finally cracking a grin of their own. For a split moment, it felt like the four had known each other for a lifetime- and maybe they had, somewhere other than outback an unkept school building- but the feeling faded once with the teens’ quiet snickers as they got lost in the cool early winter air.

Silence falls over them as thick as a blanket, but neither do anything to disturb it, instead choosing to focus on their own devices- Jet tapping out a beat with his fingers on the brick wall behind him, Ghoul playing with his fingers, the black and red haired teen looking up at the smog-filled sky and their blonde counterpart is rummaging through their pockets. They come out successful, a small cardboard box grasped in their hand and making a familiar noise as the contents rattle inside. Instinctively, Ghoul reaches out when the blonde teen passes a cigarette to their friend, and by some miracle they entertain him, offering both Ghoul and Jet one each as well.

They’re all about half-way through when the teen with red streaks speaks up, “These are probably going to kill us one day.” they muse, though it’s more of a general statement or a given fact rather than anything else. They are young, sure, but they’re old enough to know that at the end of the day kids like them end up in either a nine to five or a two by six- both which feel like equally terrible options. Then again, who wants to live forever?

“Talk for yourself, i personally plan to go out with a bang.” Ghoul announces, puffing out his chest for effect, which makes Jet snort.

“Yeah, right.” he smiles and takes another drag, while the younger pokes his leg in retaliation for laughing at him, “You’re probably going to get trampled in a moshpit at some dingy bar.”

“And you’re going to get into some situation you can’t talk your way out of.” Ghoul huffs, crossing his arms, while the other looks down at him with a raised brow, almost dauntingly- like he didn’t believe something like that could ever happen.

“You’re both going to get murdered.” the teen in the striped sweater declares, “You’re smoking with two complete strangers behind the school building.” they explain when the two look at them confused, which they nod along to as an unspoken ‘fair enough’.

“You’re going to get run down by a car or something stupid like that.” the teen dressed in black elbows them in the arm with a smirk.

“Yeah, and you’re going to turn into a pile of ashes the moment you step outside after watching 70s horror movies in the basement for four years.” the other rolls their eyes and attempts to jab a finger in their side, but they swat it away last moment.

“Um, actually, i prefer turning into a swarm of bats.” the teen says matter-of-factly, earning a few chuckles, before the lights inside the school building suddenly go out, taking away what little light the four had.

“I’ll take that the Winter Formal is over.” Ghoul says dryly, trying to ignore the part of him that’s upset no one even thought to do as much as check all the students had left the school perimeter before shutting everything down.

Someone hums in agreement, but none of them make any move to leave. Maybe they didn’t want to go or maybe in the meanwhile the ground had turned to molasses and trapped the teens in the school yard. Despite the second option feeling much more plausible to him than the first, when Ghoul raises a foot of the ground, he find that it has, most curiously, not actually turned into molasses. He then feels slightly stupid for even considering that something like that could happen.

“I think there’s probably some venue still open.” the blonde says, crushing the butt of their cigarette under their foot, “You can come too, if you want.”

“Yeah, it‘s not like i want to go home.” Ghoul shrugs, internally wincing when his brain catches up with what he just said.

“I’m down, as long as someone has a quarter to call my mum.” Jet says and silence falls over the teens again as they pat their pockets to check for any spare coins. There is a rattle and Ghoul pulls out the contents of his pocket, dumping it in his friend’s open palm.

“And you can keep the change, you filthy animal.” the younger grins, as the other ruffles his hair as retaliation.

“Festive.” the teen with teased hair remarks, putting out their own cigarette, followed by the other two.

The teens start walking around to the front of the school, lead by the one wearing the striped seater, when it suddenly occurs to him, ”Oh, forgot to introduce myself. My name’s Kobra, he/him.”

“Jet, he/him, as well.” Jet answers, mirroring the way Kobra introduced himself, “And this tiny gremlin is Ghoul.”

“He/they.” Ghoul adds, slamming into Jet’s side. The taller lets out an ‘ _ oomph _ ’, not having expected the other to ram into him like that, before picking Ghoul up as he squirms and kicks, “Let me down, you brute!”

“Poison, they/them.” the teen with black and red hair says, and you can almost hear the smirk in their voice when they add, “We’re basically the three musketeers, now. No take backs.”

“I call dibs on D’Artagnan!” Ghoul declares, jumping out of Jet’s arms and running before the other three.

“Hey, not fair! I wanted to be D’Artagnan!” Poison protests, chasing after Ghoul who cackles as he jumps over the fence gate separating the backyard from the front of the school, “Come here you little-”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Come yell at me in the comment section or [@dead-silxnce](https://dead-silxnce.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr


End file.
